


The Heavy Lightness of Floating

by TailorNorata



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Siren Stiles Stilinski, Soulmates, Steter Monthly Prompts, The Sheriff isn't all that comfortable with supernatural stuff, Trust Issues, Water, but he is working on it and getting better, if you think there is more I should tag pls mention it, lots of handholding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 16:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12214557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TailorNorata/pseuds/TailorNorata
Summary: Stiles has a strange dream that seems to affect Peter and somehow for once the Sheriff knows more than them.





	The Heavy Lightness of Floating

_All around him was lightness._  
_Not a lightness like flying, it was heavier than that._  
_The heavy lightness of floating, drifting._  
_It was like dull cold was hugging him, engulfing him fully._

  
_Every movement was slow and dragging. T_ _here was a resistance in him and around him, keeping him from moving faster. But he himself felt supported and light, as if he weighed almost nothing._

  
_It was almost like being underwater._  
_Except..._  
_He couldn’t be._  
_He was breathing._  
_How was he-_  
_Where was-_  
_What-_

  
_Stiles tensed and tried to open his eyes._  
_It didn’t work and then suddenly he felt himself being pulled upwards while a sound appeared._  
_It was like a weirdly melodic scream._  
_Like someone was yelling, only beautiful._  
_And wasn’t that a strange idea._

_By now he was fighting to open his eyes and still felt like he was being pulled upwards._  
_The melodic screaming-like sound got louder._

 

 

 

Then he felt himself breaking a surface, the sound turned into an actual scream, his eyes flew open and were flooded with burning light.  
He was being shaken and loudly spoken to by someone and tried to focus his eyes, tried to locate the source of the screaming.

  
Only when he took a breath and the noise stopped he realized he himself had been screaming. He also realized the person shaking him was now yelling his name in a panicked voice.

  
His eyes got more used to the bright artificial light around him and he recognized his father sitting in front of him, holding his shoulders in a tight, grip, looking at him with a concerned expression.

"Dad…” Stiles croaked and didn’t know what else to say.

His father apparently didn’t know either and simple pulled his son into a tight hug.

  
After a while Stiles wiggled a bit and the Sheriff let go of his child.  
“Damn it Stiles, you scared me. You haven’t had a nightmare in quite a while…”

  
Stiles looked down into his lap and pressed his lips together.  
How should he explain this hadn’t really felt like a nightmare?

  
There developed a slightly awkward silence but then he decided just to try and describe his dream as best he could.

  
Afterwards his father seemed more concerned than confused which in turn confused and concerned Stiles.  
“Dad, what is it?”

  
His father didn’t answer right away but stared unfocused past Stiles, apparently thinking.  
Before Stiles got an answer the doorbell rang and the man seemed almost relieved. Although he tried to act upset.

  
“Who in god’s name could that be? I swear if one of your little wolf friends has been hanging around our neighborhood when they should be sleeping I’m going to have a word with them.”

  
Stiles sighed and decided not to push for an answer right now but let his dad open the door first. Because indeed it likely was a pack member.  
“Relax, if it’s one of them it’s Derek or Peter, the others have taken your conditions to heart and try to keep their word.”

  
The older man stood up and nodded with a half smile.  
“I guess I can’t expect them to fully stop the patrols…”  
“Soon they’ll be of age and you won’t be able to expect almost anything anymore. Just to prepare you for that.”  
Stiles saw his father roll his eyes while their bell rang again and he left the room to answer it.

  
He could hear Peter’s voice downstairs and felt his heart skip a beat for some reason while his brain had a strange tingling sensation.  
Although he could admit he appreciated Peter’s company and...physique, he usually didn’t feel like he was buzzing with positive excitement at the sound of the man’s voice.

  
Curious as to what that might be about Stiles stood up and left his room as well.

  
The tingling sensation got stronger as he walked towards the stairs and started to decent.  
He could hear his father say something and then how Peter answered in the voice he had when his fangs were dropped and he was trying to restrain himself.  
“Sheriff, you don’t understand, I NEED to make sure Stiles is alright!!”

  
Now he could also see them, Peter looked like he just ran a marathon and he was fixated on the Sheriff’s face. He had an almost desperate expression, quite unusual for the man.  
“I appreciate your concern Hale, but there is really no need-”

  
The step beneath Stiles’ foot creaked and both men looked at him.  
He tried not to look too awkward and sighed before walking down the last few steps.  
“It’s okay dad, let Peter in.”

  
Stiles father, still one arm holding onto the doorframe as to lock Peter’s path into the house looked at Stiles questioningly.  
“Are you sure?”  
Stiles, unable to think of much else but the strong tingle -by now more of a white noise in his head, yelling at him to get closer to Peter Hale- pressed his lips together, determined to keep his cool and nodded.  
“Yes, please, give Peter and me some space.”  
The Sheriff sighed and didn’t seem all that happy but nodded before giving free the way into the house and mumbling “If you need me I’ll be in the living room.”

Stiles nodded vaguely in acknowledgment while his eyes were fixated on the older werewolf.  
Peter, so eager to enter and check on Stiles moments before, now seemed frozen in the doorframe, unable to move.  
He only blinked when Stiles was right in front of him and hesitantly reached out to touch the werewolf’s cheek.  
Stiles stopped when there was only about a breath of air between his fingertips and Peter’s face.  
The werewolf blinked again and then closed the space Stiles had left, closed his eyes and leaned into the touch while his whole body seemed to relax and his fangs retreated.

The white noise in Stiles head stopped and was replaced by a low, relaxing, melodic vibration. Like his subconscious was celebrating what was happening.

  
Stiles wasn’t sure how long that moment lasted but he was aware time felt somewhat blurry for a while.  
Eventually though he felt his arm get more mundanely tingly because it wasn’t getting the needed circulation when raised like that.  
He dropped the arm and the werewolf opened his eyes.

  
Neither of them stepped back so Stiles could very clearly stare in Peter’s eyes with all the confusion and need for answers in him pushing through that gaze.  
“Why are you here Peter?”

  
It wasn’t a fair question he thought.  
Stiles was pretty sure they both didn’t really know what was going on here, but it was still the only thing he was able to come up with.

  
Peter shrugged and furrowed his brows.  
“I heard your voice, in my apartment, calling for me. It was like I couldn’t fight it. It was a stronger call than the one of a banshee, it was like your voice had gripped my soul and was yanking me further and further...I never in my life ran this fast…”

  
Somehow Stiles wasn’t as surprised as he should be by that.  
Something instinctively told him what Peter had done was what was supposed to happen.

 

Behind them there was a loud groan and Stiles didn’t need to turn around to know his dad had been listening to everything.  
“This can’t be happening” were the next words of the man and Stiles pressed his lips together frustrated and turned around anyway.  
“Yes, agreed, what happened to our privacy policy dad?”

  
John shrugged.  
“I gave you privacy but then you two took quite a while and I wanted to check on you only to find the two of you standing there like locked in some kind of trance. You don’t really think that’s a situation I won’t keep an eye on.”

  
Fair enough.  
Stiles furrowed his brows in irritation while his consciousness forced his attention to how numb his arm still felt.  
“How long exactly were we standing like that?”

  
The Sheriff shrugged again.  
“I don’t know, over ten minutes. I started to get pretty worried, thought about calling somebody a few times.”

  
What?!

  
“That’s...kinda long…”

  
His father nodded and seemed overwhelmed. Stiles realized his father's thoughts were debating an entirely different issue.  
“Yes, but not the point. Like I said I-”  
He pinched the bridge of his nose.  
“This is...we need to...I need to call...someone and... and we need to talk. This is...dammit!"

He clenched his fists and then sighed deeply befire continuing with the calm voice he usually used when he had to deal with emergency situations.

"Get Peter into the living room as well. Don’t do anything until I made a few phone calls.”

This was very confusing.  
Obviously his father knew something but again he didn’t say what.

Instead he turned and disappeared into his office.

 

Stiles hand reached out to Peter’s more on instinct than anything, but when their fingers intertwined it felt right.

  
The wolf didn’t seem to question it either but instead gave his hand willingly and let the young man guide him from the hallway into the living room onto the couch.

  
There was silence for a while.

  
Silence in which you could hear the stressed but low voice of the Sheriff talking on the phone a few rooms away, the slight buzzing sound of the fridge since the door to the kitchen was open, their breathing and every oh so slight move they made.

  
Stiles knew he’d have to find a topic or would be bound to freeze there in place because the silence started to engulf them like a straitjacket.  
So he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.  
“Uh...what exactly did I say?”

  
Peter furrowed his brows.  
“Come again?”

  
Okay, maybe he hadn’t phrased that all that great.

  
“I meant, you said you heard my voice, calling you. What did I say exactly?”

  
The older man’s face became more smooth, harder to read as he probably thought about if and how he wanted to answer that question.  
Stiles stayed silent, although it was trying, and waited as patiently as he could.

  
Eventually Peter sighed and spoke.  
“Listen, it wasn’t really words so much as screaming...in a way? It didn’t necessarily sound like you. It didn’t even necessarily sound human…  
But it felt like you, I knew it was you. And the noise pulled me. It forced me to stand up and come to its source as quickly as I could.

I ran all my way here, fast, even for someone with my abilities. My lungs were burning.  
Eventually the noise stopped but it was replaced by a strange, numb ache and the need to find you stayed. So I kept running.”  
He shrugged and didn’t try to hide the fact he was clueless as to what all of that might be about.

  
Stiles furrowed his brows and looked down at their joined hands.  
It was hard to keep himself calm, but he had learned how important it was to stay as calm and collected as possible.  
His only real weapon and defense in all these crazy supernatural situations was his mind.  
Losing control over it could easily get him into an early grave.

  
So, staying calm.  
What did he know?

 

He had had a dream about being in water - now after waking up he had little doubt about it - but being able to breath.  
He had no idea what that might be a metaphor for, but he could think about that part later in greater detail.  
He also knew he had screamed in the dream and had continued after waking up.

But the scream had changed when he had felt like breaking the water’s surface at the same time as he woke up.  
Maybe the water was an allegory for his subconscious mind?  
Maybe it meant something entirely different…

  
Later! Think about that part later!  
The outside effect of this situation were the priority at this moment.

  
Now, Peter had heard a noise, not necessarily human, calling him.  
And he had somehow identified that noise to come from Stiles.  
Maybe the noise Peter had heard had been the scream Stiles had let out in his dream?

Again Stiles looked at their hands and he realized Peter was observing him in his thought process.

It should feel weird to hold Peter’s hand like that.  
Yes, there had been a somewhat troublesome connection and attraction between them for quite a while. And honestly, considering he had had a crush on Lydia before he wasn’t all that surprised. A smart, handsome asshole with an attitude and a tendency for heavy sarcasm was right up his alley.

  
Still, he had never mentioned it, to anybody, certainly not to Peter of all people.  
He fancied the guy, he didn’t trust him.  
So, the touch should have felt strange.  
But it didn’t.

Stiles closed his eyes and tried to relax.  
That wasn’t exactly where his mind was supposed to go right now.  
Back on track please!

  
He licked his lips and tried to overcome the dryness of his mouth to speak.  
“So-”

  
He cleared his throat as well as the first noise came out strangled.  
“So, the sound...was it somehow like a...a melodic scream? I mean like-”

  
Peter squeezed his hand a bit to stop him from trying to force out the words.  
“Like someone played a violin with the tortured vocal cords of a human while being under water?”

  
Stiles swallowed hard.  
“Do I need to know how you know what that’d sound like?”

  
Peter raised an eyebrow.  
“You don’t watch Hannibal?”

  
Stiles just stared at the werewolf for a moment with half opened mouth.  
Then he smiled about how Peter had caught him off guard.  
“I actually haven’t found the right time to look into it. Should I?”

  
Peter smiled with satisfaction at the younger man’s face.  
“The plot has it’s highs and lows, all in all it’s pretty good though. Better than average. And the cinematography is great. Everything is made to look just the slightest bit off. I’m sure you’d appreciate it just as much as I do. And also, you get to hear what it sounds like when a person’s vocal cords are used on a cello. It’s quite accurate I might add. Tried it out on a rogue hunter.”

  
Stiles groaned.  
“God damnit Peter!”

  
The werewolf smiled innocently.  
“What? I was curious and I happen to play the violin. Also, it’s not like he was some innocent Person. I had to kill him anyway. Why waste a body simply on the grounds of some weird moral idea not to defile a corpse.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but before he was able to say anything his father entered the room.  
“What was that about defiling a corpse?”

  
Stiles gave Peter a warning glance.  
“We are having a hypothetical debate about the moral dilemma of satisfying one’s curiosity about the human body and still honoring the sanctity of a person’s remains.”

  
The Sheriff looked at his son as if he wasn’t sure they were actually related.  
“I thought you’d be talking about what happened…” he said slowly and wary of his son’s expression.

  
Stiles could also feel Peter’s eyes on him and tried to tune that fact out to be able to keep his poker face on.  
“We did. We got sidetracked. But now that you mention it. Since you are done with the phonecalls. Care to explain what the fuck is going on?”

  
His father looked guilty and uncomfortable and sighed heavily before wiping his face with one hand and sitting down opposite to them.

The man’s eyes fell on Stiles’ and Peter’s joined hands as well and he sighed again but miraculously didn’t openly object against it.  
Stiles had no idea what to make of that fact but for now just wanted to hear what his dad had to say.  
“Okay kiddo, look...I...eh….”

  
He scratched his neck, drew out the somewhat distressed noise.  
“I always hoped this wouldn’t come up. Especially since all that supernatural stuff happened.  
I actually never believed it, but my mother and grandparents swore the story was true. I tried to keep you away from it because I was afraid they would put weird ideas in your head.”

  
Listening to this was frustrating and Stiles did his best not to say anything.  
He started to remember all those times he had asked about his dad’s side of the family, all those times his dad had brushed the questions off.  
Stiles had met his grandfather, but only after the guy had started to get dementia. He had been cruel to Stiles’ dad and Stiles himself, so they both hadn’t pushed each other to visit often.

  
He could feel how Peter squeezed his hand and it somehow grounded him, helped him not to trail off in memories that started to make more sense.

  
His father continued.  
“The story is, my grandmother’s great grandmother has been a siren. And in each generation there could be a few children born with the ‘Gift of the Siren’ in them.”  
He made air quotes at the part about the gift and still sounded like he somewhat considered it a ridiculous idea.

  
“According to my mother her sister has had it. I rarely met aunt Helena and my father clearly didn’t like her but she sure had a lot of charisma…  
Her son and daughter, my cousins, supposedly have it too, but since my father made sure we kept our distance from those ‘superstitious heathens’ I actually only met them once.”

  
Stiles stared at his father, his mind was racing.  
He had fucking siren blood?  
Was that possible?  
From his father’s side?

  
Stiles had the spark.  
Ever since he had been told about that he had suspected there might be some magic in his family. But he had always thought it’d have come from his mother.  
After all, why would his father never have mentioned magic ancestors?  
Even more so after he had been filled in on the thing with the werewolves!

His dad seemed to pick up on that thought and gave him a pleading look.  
“Please understand me Stiles. I have been raised not to believe in those things. I knew some of my grandmother’s stories, I was told they were nothing more than fairy tales, stories our family brought over from the old world. And later...I still didn’t really think it was true.

  
And even if... I still thought it surely wouldn’t be relevant.  
I mean, there has been no one gifted in our direct line. Why would you be.  
I tried to keep you from that part of our family.  
Because that was what I believed was right.  
I thought I was protecting you from people with quite antiquated views on heritage…  
I was wrong to do that, obviously.  
But you have to believe me, I just...I didn’t really think it might be true…”

He felt a bit dizzy.  
Yes, he believed his dad, he understood, he agreed it had been wrong, but he understood.  
Still, this was simply too much at once.  
“I...I gotta…”  
He let go of Peter’s hand and stood up, staring past his father’s shoulder into nothing.  
“I gotta go be somewhere else....”

It was more mumbled than anything, but he didn’t really care right now.  
Without another word he left the living room, half heartedly slipped on his shoes and left the house.

There was the faint noise of his father calling after him, but he didn’t really register it, didn’t really care.

 

 

The first steps out the door he felt like his legs were made of jello, but it got easier.  
He stumbled, straightened up and tried to shake off the shock. He needed to get out of the driveway, start walking further away, firmly along the sidewalk, feeling the need to put distance between him and that news.

  
Not long and he was more running than walking, and after that he started to actually run.

  
He had left behind the street and was approaching Beacon Hill’s outskirts fast.

  
Then he had left town and started along the more or less clear hiking trail into the forest.

  
Up the hill he got slower but he didn’t stop.  
He knew his clothes were wet with sweat, his muscles were protesting and he would regret this the next day, but he didn’t stop.  
By now he felt he couldn’t.

  
He wasn’t just running away anymore.  
He was running towards something.

  
It took at least two more miles until he realized what it was.  
While running downhill now he started to recognize the area, started to slow down.

  
Only a few more steps and he could see the lake’s surface shimmering in demilune light.

  
He slowed down even more and walked the last few steps.  
When water was gently sloshing around his shoes he came to a halt.  
The shoes were old and worn out, his socks were being soaked in water already.  
He didn’t mind.

  
He didn’t even mind the cold it was bringing to his feet.  
At the end of his rope he stared over the reflecting surface and fell to his knees.  
Now water was soaking his sweatpants, creeping up his thighs.  
That was all right.  
He didn’t mind.

  
Staring up into the sky, his fingertips brushing the lake’s surface he felt like there were a lot more stars than he was used to.  
Almost without realizing what he did he let himself fall back.  
He was lying at the water’s edge.  
It surrounded him, it soaked his entire back, most of his hair and his entire lower body.  
He didn’t mind.

  
He was staring up at the moon and the stars, staring at their light, at their number, asking himself how he never realized how many stars there were.  
How many colors they had…  
A tender smile appeared on his face and he felt a melody in his soul.  
It felt like a melody fit to accompany the night sky’s light and the water’s gentle, cold embrace.

  
Singing came to him like breathing now.  
It weren’t words, just sounds, his voice, and yet, a lot more than that.

  
He sang until his mind was fully at peace and able to drift off.  
The last heat of his body was drained when the cold also engulfed his face and fully succumbed him.  
His mind further drifted away and relaxed into a state of deep peace.

And if the water pulled him deeper, lulling him into subconciousness with his own voice, his own songs...

He didn't mind.

 

 

  
When he slowly returned to his senses he felt like he had a dejavu.  
All around him was lightness.  
Not a lightness like flying, it was heavier than that.  
The heavy lightness of floating, drifting.  
There was a dull cold hugging him, engulfing him fully.

  
He opened his eyes.  
He was under water.  
In the middle of the lake.  
And he was somehow breathing.  
How was that?

  
It was probably part of the gift…

  
Slowly his mind came fully back, fully realizing the situation he was in.  
It was night, he was able to see stars and the moon above the water’s surface over him.

  
His eyes had changed, they were able to see perfectly in the darkness of the lake’s water.  
He was able to see like it was bright day, only everything was illuminated by the cold light the moon was reflecting.

He wanted to pull out his phone to check his pupils to see how they might have changed just to realize he had left it at home. He almost wanted to get angry about that but then realized it’d have died anyway because he was still under fucking water.

  
Searching for his phone though he had realized his fingers had grown longer and developed webbing.  
Looking down he realized he had lost his shoes and his toes had grown longer and developed webbing as well.

  
With exploring hands he checked his neck to see if he had developed gills.

  
He hadn’t.

  
How then was it he was literally breathing water?

  
With more attention to the actual process he breathed in the water and let it flow out of his body again.

  
There was no current out of his mouth so it left his body on another way.

  
He took another breath and realized there was a slight tingle on his skin at his sides.

  
Pulling up his shirt and twisting to look at his ribs he could make out - and feel with his hands- the unmistakeable slits of gills, gently releasing water from his lungs.  
_“Okay...cool”_ he mumbled and was irritated by the ethereal and strangely distorted words.  
It was still his voice, just not quite like usual.

 _“Hello…”_ he said just to hear it again.  
_“This is so weird.”_

  
There was a loud noise and looking up he could see his underwater world’s sky crumble into ripples.  
Rather close to the shore there was a shape forcing it’s way deeper into the lake.

  
It was a person. Illuminated from behind Stiles couldn’t say for sure who it was, but something inside him felt pulled towards that person.  
He hesitantly paddled with his legs and was only slightly surprised at how easily his changed physique moved through the unaccustomed element.

  
A few more strokes and he was able to not only recognize Peter but somehow also smell him.

  
_“Peter…”_ he said, trying to ignore the strangeness of his voice.

  
The werewolf, determined expression on his face, had come to a halt when he had spotted Stiles, but didn’t really seem to recognize him until he heard him speak.

  
He reached out his hand towards Stiles as if he was drowning and wanted to be pulled out.  
Only Stiles would have pulled him deeper into the water.

  
He took the man’s hand anyway and saw how his expression relaxed together with his body.  
Now, not actively trying to get deeper into the lake anymore, Peter was like a balloon at Stiles hand, gently floating in the water, ready to drift upwards if Stiles would let go of him.

  
_“Why are you here Peter?”_

  
The question was once again somewhat stupid.  
They both still didn’t really know what was going on here.

  
In response or not Peter scrunched up his face and motioned to his neck and then up.

  
Stiles furrowed his brows.

  
After a moment he realized Peter wasn’t able to breath under water.

  
He hadn’t even thought of that.  
After all, he was breathing fine.

 

With an apologetic expression Stiles wrapped his arms around the werewolf’s torso and paddled upwards.

  
They cut through the water like a rocket launching in the air and not even a second later they were breaking the lake’s surface.

  
Stiles could hear Peter take in a tortured breath, deep and desperate while he himself felt the biting of air pushing the water out of his lungs and his gills closing the moment all the water was out.

While Peter tried to calm his breathing down Stiles moved them slowly to the shore.

  
“Crazy idiot werewolf” he murmured with his normal voice while pushing Peter’s body with unusual strength out of the water onto the ground.

  
Peter huffed and smiled while letting his head lol to the side.  
“If only you knew…”

  
Stiles pushed himself up and crawled out of the shallow water, flopping down on his back next to the man.  
“What is that supposed to mean?”

  
The werewolf laughed dryly and reached out his hand to touch Stiles’ still webbed fingers.  
It seemed more curious than anything else considering how he followed the shape of those webs between Stiles’ fingers.  
His next words though were certainly not what Stiles had expected.

  
“My mate is a goddamn mermaid.”

  
“Siren, and- wait, what? What do you mean, mate?!”

  
Stiles turned his head to vaguely look at Peter and there was a sigh as Peter lazily wiped his face with his free hand.  
“Believe me, I had no intention of telling you before today. Not like it’d do you any good to know you are a destined match for an assumed dead, narcissistic, sociopathic zombie serial killer werewolf twice your age.”

  
Stiles snorted and it seemed to make Peter smile as well.  
“Not gonna lie, it doesn’t sound all that sexy when you say it like that...but, you know what? Fuck you for not telling me. Considering you are the second person tonight to reveal some huge life changing secret to me I feel like I should probably pay Derek, Scott, Lydia and the others all visits to find out if they got something for me too…”

  
The older man chuckled.  
“I certainly deserve that and more.”

  
Stiles didn’t respond to that but instead took a moment to process everything new he learned in the last few hours and find out what would be the best thing to do now.

Because while a part of him wanted to panic he knew for sure that was the one thing he shouldn't do right now.

So, think! What was the next step?

  
He had no idea.

  
It seemed for now he had to get more information.

  
“So, back to my original question, why are you here? How did you find me?”

  
Peter blinked, slightly thrown by the change of topic but then licked his lips, looked up into the night sky and seemed to try and find the best point to start while still subconsciously playing with Stiles’ still webbed hand.

  
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think my special connection to you might be the reason I can hear your supernatural call.  
This time it was really scary.

  
Your dad and I were kind of awkwardly having small talk about the pack while waiting for you to come back when I felt your calling again.  
Your dad tried to come with me, I tried to resist the urge to use my werewolf speed to get to you so he’d be able to follow, but I wasn’t able to do that very long and when I gave in to the urge to run he called after me to bring you home unharmed.

  
I only was able to stop myself when I was knee deep in water.  
I fought the urge to dive into the lake.  
I didn’t know what was going on and honestly, a part of me considered you might be using your new found powers to force me to drown myself...

But eventually I couldn’t stay put anymore and jumped to launch myself into the water, head first…  
And luckily you had no intention to drown me.”

  
Peter looked back at the younger man’s face with a concerned half smile.  
“So yeah, apparently you can make me do crazy, idiotic things.”

  
Stiles smiled apologetic and Peter raised both brows.  
“Impressive teeth darling.”

  
“Teeth?” Stiles mumbled confused and inspected his mouth more consciously with his tongue.  
Oh wow, his teeth were still smaller than those of a shifted werewolf, but they were all sharp and pointed, shaped almost like shark teeth. At least that was what it felt like.  
Somehow he hadn’t noticed the change. Even now they felt like they were exactly as they were supposed to be.

  
After he got over his first surprise he grinned again, now intentionally showing them off, licking over them.  
His hearing unintentionally tuned into Peter’s heartbeat as it suddenly sped up.  
“Oh wow, don’t tell me that scared you Peter.”

  
The werewolf grinned as well.  
“Heightened hearing? I guess that makes sense. What about your nose?”

  
Stiles shrugged.  
“How would I know, it’s not like I can intentionally hone my sense of smell. Or hearing for that matter. I’ve been a siren for a hot second dude.”

  
Peter chuckled.  
“Try to take a deep breath and concentrate on my familiar scent. You can lean in and make it easier.”

  
Hesitantly Stiles propped himself up and leaned over Peter to put his nose close to the man’s neck and breath in as deep as possible.

  
He groaned overwhelmed and let himself fall back on the ground, barely feeling how his head met earth and grass before closing his eyes.

  
Indeed his sense was heightened, it made him dizzy and he was glad it hadn’t happened with a scent less pleasing.

  
Peter’s scent was familiar as the wolf had said but for the first time Stiles could actually smell the animal, the man, the wild rage and hunger caged up somewhere under trained restraint and heavy sarcasm.

Now he understood how others sometimes knew if someone was a werewolf. He could smell the pack, the others, Scott. Their scenting rituals had done what they were supposed to.

He could also smell fear, yes, adrenaline still rushing through those veins. But most of all he sensed excitement and actually...arousal?

  
Was it possible he was interpreting that wrong? No, he knew exactly what that scent was.  
He wasn’t mistaken.

  
With a slight smile he opened his eyes again and looked up to the moon and stars as well.  
“Yes, my sense of smell is heightened.”

  
Peter nodded slightly, Stiles could see it in his peripheral vision, and he could hear it.  
“Then you know.” was all the older man said.

  
“I do. Is that part of the mate thing?”

  
Peter chuckled.  
“No, I always had a thing for people with enough bite to match mine. It was part of why I offered to turn you.”

  
“Back then, did you know I was your mate?”

  
“You weren’t. I had met my mate already. When I came back I guess I was given a new chance in that regard.”

  
Stiles sat up abruptly and furrowed his brows.  
“Does that mean if I died and came back I’d be given another mate?”

  
Peter sat up himself, more slowly though and tried to hide how hard that question had hit him.  
“Yes, I think that’d be a way to break this connection. Although it’s very dangerous to do something like that. But of course I will help you try to find a way.”

  
Stiles’ brows furrowed deeper and he frowned.  
“You would? Why? Would you rather give up your new possibility to have a meaningful relationship than to give us a chance?”

  
Peter furrowed his brows as well.  
What was he supposed to make of this? Was Stiles testing him? Trying to get him to admit he would love to have a chance together? Was Stiles really cruel enough to try and force him to admit his feelings before crushing every glimmer of hope?  
Or could it be...

  
Was it possible Stiles’ question had been hypothetical and he really was open to giving them a chance?  
It certainly wasn’t likely…

 

 

Stiles was searching for something that’d tell him what Peter thought.

  
Was the man really that eager to break their bond?  
Was that the real reason he had never told Stiles about their connection in the first place?  
Or did he think Stiles didn’t want this? Was he trying to do what he thought Stiles wanted him to? How likely was it for Peter Hale to do something selfless…

  
Peter usually put his own needs first, it was a big part of why he had survived up until now.

 

They were staring at each other, Stiles’ words still hanging in the air.  
Eventually Peter cleared his throat.  
“Stiles, what do you think why I stayed in Beacon Hills even after Derek and Cora moved to South America?”

  
Stiles blinked and blurted “It’s your home.”

  
Peter smiled sad and painful.  
“Home is where people are you care about. There is little here for me except bad memories Stiles.”

  
The young man sighed and pressed his lips together before looking down into his own lap.  
He knew what Peter was implying, he just didn’t know if he could believe that. He wasn’t the naive child from a few years ago.  
And he wasn’t eager to be played with and thrown out when ragged down.

  
There were a few moments of silence in which Stiles looked at his weirdly elongated feet and toes. Trying to keep his mind calm and practical.  
Walking with those would look just ridiculous and those toes probably broke quite easily...

  
But back to his present conversation.  
“I have been hurt, overlooked, ignored, falsely accused, tricked, used and abused Peter. I don’t trust easily anymore. It takes more than a subtle hint for me to believe you actually care. And in case you don’t and are just trying to mess with my head let me just warn you. A big part of my early research has been on how to prevent you from ever again doing any real damage to me or anyone I care about. And I will never not be prepared for that possibility.”

 

Peter’s shoulders sacked and he smiled, but it seemed sad and weirdly hopeful.  
“So I assume if I were to go on a another uncontrolled killing spree you would take me down and make sure I stayed dead this time.”

  
Stiles blinked at the change in posture and the hesitant way Peter had asked his question.  
“Yes, absolutely.”

  
The corners of Peter’s mouth twitched into a wider smile.  
“And you are sure you have covered all possibilities.”

  
Stiles stared for a moment, contemplating if Peter was considering his words a challenge but then sighed.  
“No, of course there will always be possible ways I’ve overlooked, but I will make it as impossible and difficult and painful for you as I can.”

  
The werewolf’s smile didn’t disappear. Instead he nodded and looked up at Stiles’ face before continuing talking, only now his voice was calm and sober.

  
“Good. When I woke up back then I was more hurt and broken than I ever knew I could become without dying. I was quite literally a lunatic.  
I’ve never been less in control and I’ve never felt less myself than in that pain and rage.”  
He smiled resigned at his next words.  
“I’m not a good person. I’m not. And I never really was. I can admit that. But for the most part of my lives I’ve tried to at least don’t do anything I can’t justify to myself.  
I failed at that the night I killed my own niece.  
So yeah...it’s good to know somebody else is prepared to take me down should I ever end up like that again.”

 

Stiles laughed dryly.  
“Geez, you almost make me feel bad for you zombiewolf.”

  
“Apologies.”

  
There was another small pause between them and Stiles used it to try and figure out how he could change back into his human form.

  
It was a rather subconscious, instinctual process and trying to force it felt like it only served to block his way into change of any kind.

  
Only when he stopped trying to force it and simply concentrated on relaxing and breathing while trying to think of himself on land, among humans, in human form he felt his feet shorten, fingers and toes separate, his teeth getting dull, his sight a lot less precise. His hearing got worse again too, but after a few more mental exercises he started to figure out how to willingly change parts individually. Soon his sight and hearing were heightened again.

  
The werewolf had observed all of it and had an hard to read expression before commenting.  
“I am impressed with how fast you are getting a hang on shifting. It takes most of us, even us born werewolves, quite a while to control it.”

  
Stiles smiled warily.  
“I actually think my shift might be quite different from yours. It doesn’t feel violent at all and I also don’t feel like some kind of emotion is strongly connected to it, other maybe then tranquility...so I probably won’t have to be worried something might trigger my shift unless someone gets me too relaxed…”

  
The older man grinned.  
“No weed for you, got it.”

  
“Not really my drug of choice anyway. But let’s head back to my dad. The sky is starting to turn blue. You can finally answer my question while we walk.”

  
He stood up and reached down to pull Peter up as well.

  
The man meanwhile took that offered hand, stood up as well and sighed deeply again.  
“I…”

  
Stiles could hear Peter’s heart beating fast and tried to force himself to say what both of them were too scared and had too many trust issues to say. He tried to be the one to say it.  
But he couldn’t.

  
Peter needed to be the one to say it. Stiles needed that leap of faith.

 

  
“Screw that” the werewolf cursed, interrupting Stiles contemplation “You know what? Let me be the naive one for once.

You are terrifying, not just now with fucking shark teeth, gills and the ability to force me to drown myself but also since we met for the first time with your wit, your cunningness, your ride or die attitude and your willingness to do whatever it takes to protect those you care about.”

  
He smiled but it looked sad and when he continued it was a bit slower, more careful.

  
“I loved my mate, I really did. When she burned I thought my soul died. All that was left of me was an empty shell full of the ugliest emotions this fucked up world has to offer.

When I burned again - when you set me on fire - the small part of me still able to reflect on things felt like it was justice. I felt like this was how I was going to die.

  
Only the madness in me had prepared differently.

  
I thought, my last glimmer of the person I was before the fire would die..  
I was sure even if I was to resurrect myself it’d be as a purely mad and vicious creature.

  
In a twist of fate the opposite happened.  
I returned to sanity.  
Well, something close to it.

  
And I returned with a new person in my soul, I new name my wolf thought of when it thought of home, of pack.  
A person I didn’t even have to search for but already knew where to find.  
A person I actually could stay close to without having to push myself into their life too much.

  
So yeah. If there is a chance for the two of us I want to take it. But I’m certainly not going to force you into anything you aren’t interested in. Now, let’s head back and talk about this lat-”

  
“ _Stop.”_

  
Stiles had said it more out of reflex than anything, and he had said it in his siren voice, letting it dance through the air and swing in it like the words knew the paths of nature’s energy lines and followed them, drinking their power, forcing their command right into Peter’s blood and bones.

  
Peter felt forced to stop immediately and stared at his mate.

  
Stiles groaned as he realized what happened.  
“So much about no emotional connection and no control issues. Sorry, you can move if you want, but please listen to me.”

  
His voice was normal again.  
“Thank you for speaking so open with me.”  
He put his hand back into Peter’s and thought carefully about every word while hoping for a reassuring squeeze that didn’t come.

  
He let go again and rubbed his neck.

  
“Look, I felt attracted to you for quite a while. I always brushed it off as you Hales just being ridiculously handsome and you especially also ridiculously smart and hot in a bad boy way. But if I had known you were down for it I wouldn’t have had to restrain myself every time I just wanted to climb in your lap.”

  
His cheeks turned hot and he knew in better lighting the flush on them would be impressive but still no reaction from the older werewolf.

  
“Uh…”

  
Peter blinked but otherwise still stood there unmoving.

  
Finally Stiles understood and he immediately felt awful.  
Peter was still under his command.  
“Shit, I’m so sorry!”

  
He tried to speak in his supernatural voice.  
It took three attempts but eventually he got it and was able to allow Peter to move and speak again. The werewolf looked a bit ruffled.  
“I’m lucky apparently automatic reflexes like breathing and blinking aren’t affected by your orders.”

  
Stiles blushed.  
“I’m really sorry.”

  
Peter seemed actually kind of concerned.  
“There has to be a way to control that. Such an ability is pretty dangerous and powerful.”

  
But still he intertwined his fingers with Stiles’, gave them a squeeze and smiled waryly.  
“Now, you can always climb into my lap if you feel like it. Everything beyond that we can discuss once you and your dad had an actual conversation about all of this without one of you standing up and leaving.”

  
The young siren nodded.  
“You are right. Let’s go.”

 

  _~seven years later~_

 

Family gatherings had changed a lot in the last few years.  
Now aunt Helena and her son and daughter Kasper and Karolina including their spouses and kids with their partners were usually invited.

Of course Peter was there as well.

  
It had taken John a while to really warm up to the idea of having a son in law almost his own age, but eventually he had given in.

  
The werewolf had earned a lot of respect for doing his best to get Stiles to forgive his father.  
John knew Stiles would have come around eventually, but seeing Peter actively advocate for it even though he knew the Sheriff didn’t like or trust him was admirable.

  
Also, in the end the most important thing was his son’s happiness.  
And Stiles clearly was happy with Peter.

  
He only had to look at how both of them were swaying to the music next to Karolina and her Husband together with two of Kasper’s kids and their significant others to see the glow in his son’s face.

  
Helena nudged him in the side.

  
He had somehow remembered her as older than him, quite a bit older actually. Twenty years or so he’d reckon, if his memory was to be trusted.

  
Now she seemed younger. Not young, but at least ten years younger than him.  
And his cousins should be only a few years younger than him, both over fifty, but they didn’t look the part.

  
Of course he already had realized that seven years ago when they first had had their reunion, but he had kept out of the topic.  
Unable to fully shake the aversion his father had drilled into him he had decided to mostly let Stiles and his relatives figure stuff out.

  
He had reconnected to them on other levels, through other topics.

  
Kaspers only daughter for example was a deputy as well and on her best way to become sheriff of her own small town.  
He may have helped her a little bit with that, but he only helped speed up a development that would have happened either way.

  
Right now though for the first time he realized his son’s aging, or lack thereof as well.

  
Stiles was going to probably still look like he was in his twenties when John was about to kick the bucket.

  
He hesitated for a moment before turning to his aunt as she looked at him expectantly.  
“What’s on your mind Johnny?”

  
He smiled disgruntled.  
“The search for a way to keep you from calling me that. You know your god damn grandchildren almost all have started calling me uncle Johnny because you can’t stop saying it?”

  
She grinned mischievously and he had to roll his eyes.

  
He never had known where exactly Stiles had that expression from until he had seen it on that woman’s face again, directed at him.  
“You can try to make them stop but you probably know the damage is done Johnny, so what is really going on in that head of yours?”

  
With a sigh he waved the debate about that awful nickname away.  
“I was wondering how long...how long uh...sirens live.”

  
Helena smiled with more compassion and nodded before following her nephew’s gaze back to his son.  
“We don’t have any additional healing abilities like werewolves and some other supernatural creatures do. So most of us die a violent death long before we’d die of old age. The fact is, our need to feed on someone’s fear for their life makes us targets for the hunters.

  
Not all of them get the fact that we can feed on people we don’t put in those situations. It’s no coincidence most of us are in the business of saving lives or taking care of the dying.  
Absorbing said fear actually makes us good at our jobs, people feel comfortable around us, less afraid. But I’m getting sidetracked.

I actually don’t know how long we can live. Aging is a difficult thing to determine because we can stop aging physically sometimes, and sometimes it’s almost as fast as a human’s aging process. No one knows exactly why that can happen.

Some think it’s connected to our state of mind, how old we feel at heart, as a soul. Sirens are very much creatures of the soul and the elements.

The oldest siren I ever met looked seventy. But she said she had to be about 360 years old. I hope that gives you somewhat of an answer.”

  
That was more information than he had wanted, some of it he had known because of course he and Stiles had talked about certain things.  
But other he hadn’t.  
And he actually felt a kind of curiosity for the first time.  
His eyes once again flickered to Stiles and Peter.  
“Do werewolves live that long?”

  
His aunt grinned.  
“You are more worried about Stiles losing his partner than him dying a violent death?”

  
John snorted.  
“Stiles is a survivor. If anybody figures out how long sirens can last it’ll be him. It’d be sad if he had to do it alone though…”

  
“True. Then, to answer your question, do you want to know how old they get in human or dog years?”

  
John scowled “I’d prefer you stayed respectful when talking about my son in law Helena. You know he doesn’t appreciate that kind of distasteful jokes. And neither do Stiles nor I.”

 

 

  
Stiles had heard his father and Helena talking and smiled to himself before tuning into other conversations to be sure there was no immediate conflict brewing. All the while Peter kept an eye on the people they had identified as possible threats.

  
Antek, one of Kaspers sons swayed a little closer to them and mumbled low enough for them but not his human partner to be heard.  
“Guys, relax, you are not on a mission…”

  
Both of them smiled apologetically and went back to swaying forehead to forehead.

  
Peter casually touched his left wrist to activate the sigil Stiles had constructed for telepathic communication.  
These days they spent too much time among people with superhuman hearing abilities.

  
_> He is oblivious to his new partners hunting activities I think<_

  
Stiles just nodded and made a mental note about Antek.

  
Soon they’d know everyone involved and they’d make them regret they ever tried to come after either of their families.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm not entirely happy with this end product, but I can live with it and am kinda worried if I don't stop now it'll never be finished. If there are any questions about this just ask. The story somewhat exploded in my mind so there is quite a lot of little things I wasn't able to actually include in the fic that are still floating around in my head.  
> Comments, including constructive criticism are always welcome <3  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it :)  
> Also, I apologize for posting this unbetaed...


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